A Darkness Shared
by Pipinpadaloxicopolis III
Summary: AU piece where Aang was two years older when he disappeared, and he was rediscovered two years later (net result, all characters are two years older). Takes place at the end of the 100 Year War, with some (big) changes. Pairing-Zutara
1. Chapter 1

Katara stormed into the palace, cutting Zuko off mid-kick. His sparring partner got a well-aimed flame kick off at the new Fire Lord's chest, sending him sprawling. Katara started with surprise, her teary eyes widening with concern.

"Are you alright, Zuko?" she asked, cringing with embarrassment. The firebender across from Zuko helped him to his feet. They clasped fist and open hand in the Fire Nation sign of respect, and Zuko gave him leave to go.

"I'm fine," the young man said, picking up a towel from the lounge couch beside the makeshift Agni Ki arena. Katara realized suddenly that the prince – no, Lord – was shirtless, rivulets of sweat pouring off his bare chest and from his thick dark hair. Zuko patted down his upper body and spent extra time wiping the sweat from the burned scar that covered his left eye. "We were just about finished. And I hadn't expected you so soon. Um, not that – not that I was expecting you. I mean…" Zuko turned away as Katara's eyes narrowed.

"How did Aang tell you already? I just came from his room, and he certainly wasn't flying here when I left. And why would he tell you I broke up with him when –" Katara broke off, realizing she was shouting at him.

Zuko looked honestly confused. "You – _you_ broke up with _him_?" The skepticism in his voice set her off again.

"Of course! I'm not so self-absorbed to think I'm more important to him than the whole world! I shouldn't be! How can we have the avatar when he spends so much time with me? It isn't fair, it isn't…" She found herself in front of Zuko, though she could not say who had moved to whom. All she knew was the tears had started again. "It isn't fair. Why did he let me go? Why didn't he stop me?" And she buried her tear stained face in his hard, hot chest, tears evaporating against his skin, leaving a salty trail on hers.

Then his arms were around her, and they were sitting on the low couch. In her jumbled thoughts, she realized there were orange-grapes in a bowl next to them. Her favorite. She pulled her gaze from the fruit and up to Zuko's golden eyes. "Why didn't he fight for me?"

There was a sad smile on Zuko's face as he answered. "He's been worrying over this for months, Katara," he began, brushing the remaining tears from her eyes. "All he's been able to talk to me about since before the final battle is how he could never be enough for you. 'I'm the avatar,' he said, 'I need to go where I'm needed. Katara deserves better than an absent love.' It broke his heart, deciding to let you go."

Confusion returned to Katara's face. "But… I just broke up with him ten minutes ago. What are you saying?"

"It was going to happen sooner or later. I kept telling him you'd beat him to the punch, but he thought he'd have to push off, set off on some trip of discovery, to get you to let go of him." Katara thought of the argument that had been their last – Aang had wanted her to stay behind while he surveyed the Air Temples to see what repair work needed to be done. She wouldn't have it. When push came to shove, she always shoved harder. For once, Aang did not budge. Toph would have been proud.

Of course it had taken more than one fight to get them to that point. Aang had been so distant since taking Ozai's life, refusing to let her console him in any way. What good was the motherly Katara when he would not let her soothe him?

"He's gone," Katara murmured. "I couldn't help." Zuko pulled her off his chest, looking her straight in the eye.

"He isn't gone, Katara. He took a life. Even if it was my father's, Aang has to deal with that in his own way. There's nothing any of us can do." She fell back into his body, wracked with tears.

"He was the one though…" she moaned between sobs. His hand stiffened against the small of her back.

"Not the only one." He led the despondent Katara through the palace, to a room where she had never been. Great bronze doors with dragon's head handles blocked their way, but Zuko softly pushed them open. Inside was pitch dark. She barely had time or attention span to notice anything before Zuko had shut the door. His hands pressed her lightly to the floor, where she found a soft cushion. She sat there, staring at where her hands must be, until a flicker caught her eye. A few feet in front of her, Zuko posed. Tiny tongues of flame spread from his knuckles, and in an instant he whirled around, a thin ring of flame materializing where his fist and raised foot passed. In the dark silent room, Zuko's exhaled breath pressed against Katara's eardrums. As the pressure passed, so too did the ring of fire, and as it grew a million candles were lit.

Tears forgotten, Katara's gut sank as she realized what was happening. "Zuko, I…" He stopped her with a raised hand.

"There's another reason you couldn't help Aang, Katara. You can't heal everything. You aren't that person. Deep down I know you're more like me than you realize. I've seen it. And I know you see me better than everyone else." He gestured to his face. "You see past the scar. I see past your façade."

"That's crazy – " she began, before being cut off.

"You bloodbend, Katara. That isn't what a healer does. No matter what kind of face you wear for Sokka and Aang, you know deep down you aren't whom they see. Aang knew it, too. He really is wise beyond his years. Well, I guess he is over a hundred… Anyways…" He coughed to clear his scratchy throat. "I know the darkness inside you, Katara. It's the same as me. Aang doesn't have it, he can't understand it. But he knows you wouldn't be happy wearing a mask for the rest of your life. That is why he can't be with you."

Sudden rage filled Katara. "Who do you think you ARE?" Pans of water she hadn't known were there suddenly emptied, droplets spattering everywhere. Half the candles sputtered out, leaving a blotchy light permeating the room. In an instant she was up, advancing on Zuko, who didn't seem to know what to do. "You think you know me because you've seen me bloodbend? So has Aang! So has Sokka! They know it isn't me! They know it isn't me!" With each sentence she lashed out, thin whips of water striking Zuko. Or they would, if they didn't burst into steam with a well-timed counter-attack. Her rage fell into despair. "Isn't… me… Isn't… me…" she repeated, over and over, her attacks growing weaker and weaker until she fell at Zuko's feet. Once again, her teary face looked up to his for answers. When she saw pity in his eyes, something snapped. She rose again, water flowing around her arms. With a shove Zuko went flying to land on the bed she had not noticed, and a heartbeat later she was on him. "He should have accepted me, should have known, shouldn't have left," she grunted, over and over, watery tentacles slapping, and suddenly she did not know what was happening, Zuko was pulling himself up, his hands, so warm, were clinging to her dress.

"I accept you, I know you, I will never leave you." There were now tears in his eyes. Katara could not handle it. Not now, not after today. She felt something stir deep within her, something she could not control, something she did not want to hold back. Before she could think, she had pulled Zuko on top of her on the bed.

"Then accept," she growled.

She grabbed Zuko's tight, muscular shoulders and pushed him down, down, until his head rested on the crimson satin pillow. She lowered her head after his, angry tears blurring her vision as her eyelids closed. She was just about to break off, say how stupid she was being, when his lips pushed up, and then all thoughts, of folly or otherwise, disappeared in steamy bliss. A flame started within her, as it never had with Aang, as it never could have with Aang.

Zuko's whole body seemed behind the kiss, each moment and motion feeling like a symphony of intricate movements, and of course heat. Blistering heat pervaded her body, making her skin crawl and joints ache, but with pleasure only. Whereas hot weather normally made Katara sluggish and lazy, this heat energized her, and she found her hands moving of their own accord, twisting and twirling in Zuko's hair, nails tracing down his neck and up it, losing themselves in the messy locks.

She could not have said how long they lay like that. Part of her wondered when they had moved to the floor, but most of her didn't care. She felt something hard against her leg, something else that had been less and less frequent with Aang recently. When she thought of Aang, more anger filled her, and her hand darted for Zuko's pants. His hand gripped hers, and he pulled back from the kiss. "Not so soon," he whispered, though she could see the pain it caused him. "I just – I don't think we should rush – "

Katara didn't know how she knew, but she knew. "You're a virgin?" she giggled, despite herself, and at once regretted it. Zuko's eyes darted away, and a consternated sigh escaped her lips as he sat up. She draped her arms about him. When he looked into her face she saw embarrassment, yes, but also that fire, the fire she had felt within her, and that rage as well. The dark passion, from such different sources but so very much the same. Even though these excited her even more, she forced herself to merely stroke his arm. "When you're ready," she whispered, kissing his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

As Katara lay in the wide feather bed with Zuko that night, her body may have been resting, but her mind was racing, still unsatisfied with Zuko's hesitation and upset with Aang. As is wont to happen, Katara's dreams were the stage upon which her inner conflicts resolved themselves.

She walked down a moonlit path, her feet passing unscathed among the brambles and stones. She came upon a clearing, where Zuko waited for her. A figure stepped from behind him, and she recognized Aang, though older than she had last seen him, of a height with Zuko and with the shade of a beard along his more chiseled jaw.

Katara stepped into the clearing, and her two men retreated to opposite sides of the trees. She caught herself staring, though neither man seemed to bother. Aang had grown into quite a figure, tall and tight, though Zuko was shorter by half a head and compensated for it with more bulging muscles. The crown of the Fire Lord rested on Zuko's nicely combed hair, the signet that was usually etched in clay now alive with burning life, yet his hair remained unsinged. Above Aang's bald head circled four halos, interweaving and rotating, made of the four elements. They regarded her passively with dulled eyes, two grey, one golden, and one scarred.

She stepped forward again, knowing what must happen, and calm filled her. When she was between the two Aang's shade pressed his heel to the ground, and spires of rock erupted around her. Her wrists were clenched and held apart, as were her ankles. Aang's hands lifted, as did her body, until she was lying above the cold ground, splayed for her introspection, unafraid of what she might find. Some deep part of her wondered if she had ever been afraid to find out at all.

The men approached her, and even though her eyes faced only Aang, she could feel their tension, taste their eagerness, and her primal hunger started again. Aang's tattooed hands lay calmly on her shoulders as he gently pressed his lips to her mouth, and, though her motion was limited, her head tilted and rose as it had before. At the same time, she felt Zuko's hands rest lightly on her wide hips, calmly waiting with simmering attention.

Katara thought Aang tasted different than he had before, though in a dream she couldn't be sure. He felt… old. As she worked her tongue around his, she felt his years, the century he had lived in his own mind, the years of training to kill a single man. That kill, that effort to take another life, left him weak on the outside, like his flesh was spongy to her nibbling teeth, but inside he was pure, his soul still rock hard despite the abuse and horrible thing he had been forced to do.

Zuko was another case entirely. Although his shade was no more forceful than Aang's, when the two switched places his lips seemed to delve into Katara's skin, like a wildfire eating through dry brush. Even his hands left points of tingly sensation on the sides of her face, like he was bleeding life, and love, and hunger into her, and her body was soaking it up effortlessly. The kiss felt no better or worse than Aang's, but it was different, not pure strength within, but not damaged outside. He felt – whole.

With the certainty only a dreamer can have, she knew this would end soon. As all dreamers are, she was correct. The two men she loved kissed her quickly once more, first Aang and then Zuko. Aang's mouth was cold, saltier than seawater, yet burning acridly against her lips. _Purging_ some voice told her. Indeed his essence was too strong, too pure, tearing away at the insides of her cheeks until it had eaten holes into her face and wafted away, suddenly gaseous, to rejoin whatever perfect hell it had fallen from. When Zuko kissed her, however, her body pressed up into him despite herself. While Aang's kiss had eaten through her and departed for higher realms, Zuko's lifeforce wormed its way within her, finding holes and passageways unused for eons, infusing her body, her soul, with a darkness that she craved.

She found herself turned about, eyes to a stormy heaven as her two lovers bent over her. While Aang's forehead was creased in mild dissatisfaction, there was hunger, and triumph, in Zuko's eyes. His scar glistened with a light that had no source. Zuko raised balled fists, and streams of flame erupted from them. He drew them across her taut skin, carefully, almost lovingly, and she split like a roast whalepig. She screamed, but heard no sound, realizing she had only thought the scream. Across her thighs were two clean cuts. From the wounds seeped thick black goo, and she knew, again with a dreamer's certainty, that this was what Zuko's essence had looked like.

Now Aang bent further, and glowing waters coated his hands like gloves. When he laid them on her steaming wounds, she really did scream. The purifying healing was so strong she felt her eyes water, somewhere that was called _real world_, and she felt some other pair of arms she did not have tighten around a steamy warm torso. When Aang withdrew, her skin was repaired, dark pulsating bruises the only hint at what lay beneath the surface.

Zuko raised his fists once more, and this time the parting of her skin was akin to the parting of her lips, the sweet dark juice that bubbled up steaming to the surface like water in a hotspring. Again Aang responded, closing up the wounds. She tried to keep her face passive, like his, but failed, a single tear of the black liquid running slowly down the left side of her face. When Zuko stepped up again, she saw the black tear in the creases of his scar.

That was when she knew this dark balm for what it was: her soul. And Zuko bled the same as her. This time, when his caressing flames opened her from shoulder to shoulder, and Aang began to bend, she spoke for the first time, the last time. "No."

Aang's shade looked startled to see her speak, but then a smile split his caring face and he nodded, once, before fading into mist. The stony spires slowly receded into the ground, leaving her on the cold floor. The wound – no, exit – in her chest still steamed, and slowly the bubbling black soul spread, her olive skin splitting as she burst her shell, until a façade lay forgotten amidst the stones and brambles, skin thin yet heavy as steel, and Katara stood.

Her Zuko stood, smiling, and he reached up to remove the hair pin. His thick hair tumbled down, longer than was possible anywhere but a dream. From behind the curtain of hair peaked fingers, dark, like hers were now dark, yet pulsing red. Her own skin, or was it a soul, wavered in shades of blue, any stroke of color ready to swallow its neighbor and force it to bend to its tide. She had half a mind to subdue this fiery Zuko similarly.

As their shadow selves stepped closer, she held his cheek in a slender, flowing hand, their touching skin burning purple, fizzing like lightning. Sparks filled the air as her hand fell, making the shadow Zuko moan. The moan did not cease as she pressed her glowing lips to his. She felt her insides crackle with purple, no stomach or lungs in the way of Zuko's invasive tongue. He filled every inch of her, and she desperately wrapped her limbs about him until they were an amalgam of purple, lightning shooting off in all directions as their skin rubbed together. Katara felt her insides boiling under the intense passion that rolled off Zuko, but even that could not compare to when he bit her lip. Like when her soul had bubbled out of her skin, she again felt the pressure to explode, only now across her entire form, and this time there was no skin to split.

As Katara held tighter and tighter to Zuko's pulsing body, his hands began to roam, until they fell to the ground. At once the hard stone split around them, geysers of lava erupting into the suddenly steamy air as their passion grew. As Katara's legs tightened around Zuko's burning soulflesh, waves crashed through the trees, sizzling into steam as they reached the flames. With a primal scream that came from both throats and none at all, the barrier between Katara and Zuko dissipated, and the waves burned while the lava evaporated.

Katara awoke with beaded sweat on her forehead – Zuko was a furnace. As her eyes wandered she noticed a splotch of dry bedding surrounded by drenched sheets; she had waterbent many of the containers of water onto them in her sleep, it would seem, and Zuko's heat had kept them dry. Katara realized their legs were entwined, keeping them within inches. She untangled herself and withdrew hastily, not wanting Zuko to get the wrong idea. Katara knew how stupid that sounded as she thought it. How much had they kissed last night? How far had their fingers roamed? And a little proximity would give the wrong idea?

As her hand pulled back, though, she heard his scratchy voice, "I'm sorry, Katara… I just, I just want it to be right." Her heart sunk. She had felt the same way the night Aang approached her, just before they flew for the heart of the Fire Nation. But she had had to console him. That was who she was. No, who she had been. This time, at least for Zuko's sake, she would wait.

So she slipped her hand back around his tight abs, resting her fingers on his warm skin. In a whispery voice, she replied "It will be."


	3. Chapter 3

Zuko stormed into the bedroom, his robes disheveled and his face drawn up in an angry scowl, making his scarred eye look even more terrifying. In a second Katara was up, massaging his tight shoulders and kissing his neck from her tip toes. While the healer might have been an act to keep everyone happy, Katara would do what she could if Zuko needed it. With that thought in mind, a plan began to crystallize in her head.

"Tough day, Zuzu?" Her hands reached around to undo the fiery pin that held the red cloak on his shoulders. Beneath, his shirt was soaked in sweat. "I'll never understand why you firebenders wear such heavy woolens."

"What do you mean, Katara? They're fine." Zuko looked down, and seemed to notice his clothes for the first time. Sweat stains dotted the shirt. "What…?" Katara moved in front of him, forehead creased in a question.

"You mean firebenders don't naturally run, well, hot?" Her fingers toyed with the shirt, which wasn't as thick as she had thought. She shook her head gently, dislodging the distraction from her thoughts as she stroked down his shirt, then back up beneath it. She quickly withdrew her hands. "God, Zuko, your body's on fire!"

He laughed a little _heh_ and began to rub the back of his head, clearly misinterpreting. "No, feel," Katara insisted, grabbing his wrist, and almost burning her palms. She stumbled backwards, alarmed.

"What's wrong? I mean, apart from being tired of all this bureaucracy, having to deal with my father's officials, fixing a lifetime of his mistakes, I feel fine!" When the hem of his shirt caught flame, Katara screamed and reflex-bent a nearby jug of juice onto him. As the juice steamed around him, Zuko's eyes wandered aimlessly. Katara had just enough time to get her arms behind him before he fell.

With an unconscious Fire Lord in her arms, burning like a brand, it was a difficult few feet to the bed. She carefully laid Zuko's head on the pillow and turned to leave. With one foot out the door, she hesitated and turned back. With a wave of an arm the bath water seeped into the mattress.

Katara walked through the vast palace walls, hoping she didn't seem like a guilty regicidal new girlfriend to all the world. As she was still learning her way around the complex of buildings, it was a few minutes before she found herself outside Iroh's quarters.

"Please be here, please be here," she quietly implored as she swung the knocker.

The door opened almost immediately, to Katara's relief. Within was the great man himself, seated at a Pai Sho table. There was an equally grey man across from him, and a younger man who had answered the door. Slightly younger.

Iroh's face split in his infectious smile when he saw her. "Why, Katara! What a pleasant surprise! I was beginning to think you and that nephew of mine had forgotten there were others living in this place! Please, come in! May I interest you in some freshly brewed jasmine tea? The leaves I collected myself on the way from Ba Sing Se. Such a fine people, but difficult to drive a bargain with! Why, I remember – "

As much as Katara loved to hear the kind old man ramble on about his seemingly endless experiences, this was urgent. "Iroh, could I speak to you privately?" She was afraid Iroh would scoff at her for interrupting him, but he only laughed.

"Of course! Pai Sho might be a game of patience and planned thinking, but life rarely follows it so closely. Might I ask for a rematch at another time?" Iroh turned to his opponent. With a happy smile and nod, the two left the room, leaving Katara with the old man.

"Now, what can I do for you, young one?" he asked, already pouring her a cup of jasmine.

"It's Zuko," Katara gushed, unable to hide behind pretenses. Something about Iroh made you want to tell him everything, made you believe in your deepest of hearts that he would understand, and want to help. "I don't know what's wrong, his body has been burning up these past few weeks, and at first I thought it was just, you know, what firebenders did, but then he passed out and… and…" She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and found him stifling a laugh while looking very embarrassed.

"Oh, my dear, I am so sorry," he began after he had calmed himself. "It's just, I always assumed his mother or father had explained it to him. But now, I can see they can't have. His mother left so early, and Ozai was never the teacher." He calmed himself again as a fit of chuckling took him. Somehow they fit him, and Katara felt herself relaxing, even though she ought to still be frightened. "When a firebender has – ah – great, passion, yes, passion, for something, well, really for someone, but cannot… Hm. Cannot…" The old man gestured vaguely with open hands, laughed again, and composed himself. "My, this is embarrassing. We firebenders are creatures of life. Passion. In a word, fire. You cannot smother a fire. It eats through any dirt or cloth, and in being smothered only yearns more for the open air." He gave the young waterbender an appraising look. "If Zuko has found someone who he really, truly has great passion for, but he cannot express himself properly, it will burn inside him." At Katara's horrified face, Iroh laughed again, waving away her concerns. "Fear not, little one! It is not fatal! I am guessing Zuko has been irritable lately? Hmm? Well, more irritable than usual. Ha! He simply requires the proper… expression of this passion." He lost all humor as he seemed to realize what he was saying. "Katara, listen. My nephew is a great man. I know you have grown close to him, but do not feel guilty for denying his advances. If he is fond of you, you are not obligated to – " This time it was Iroh's turn to be confused at Katara's sudden laughter.

"No, I'm sorry Iroh, it's not you, it's not that, it's – Thank you, I think I understand now." With a laugh still on her lips, Katara waved goodbye to the old man and ran from the room.

"Katara! You forgot your tea!"

Zuko awoke to a bed drenched in sweat. He looked around, his vision blurry, until it centered on her. Katara. As she saw his open eyes, she held a cup to his lips. It slid down his parched throat easily, and he took another swallow. His vision cleared, but his head continued to swim. "Katara," he croaked, more raggedly than usual, "what's happening?" His eyes narrowed as he saw her smirk. He looked down to see the cactus juice container on the floor.

"You need to relax, milord," Katara murmured, stroking his thick hair.

"Milord? You never – " Katara held a finger to his lips and gently rubbed them.

"Firebenders can't hide their passion, Zuzu." Her hands roamed across his sweat-drenched clothes as if to offer proof. "You trying has been very hazardous to your wardrobe."

He looked where she nodded and saw a juice-stained shirt with a burnt hem. He looked back into her eyes. At first he thought he saw his own reflected in them, but then he realized that fire was all Katara's.

He struggled a little but she held a firm hand on his sweat-dripping chest. "But… It should be special…"

"When you're ready, it will," Katara promised. "First, we need to protect your clothes from you." She sat up and trailed a finger from his chin to his waist. "Pants, off."

With his brain buzzing from the cactus juice, he found himself obeying her. Or was he choosing to? When his pants were off Katara flung them to the side.

She reached out for him, unable to control herself, and she remembered her dream, weeks ago, that hunger that had started before and never really gone away. Now was the time, now it would be so easy to fulfill the urge. She actually felt her hips angling towards his, but she stopped herself. This was for him. And, she supposed, his clothes as well.

She lay beside him, letting her curves fit into his harder body. She turned his head towards hers and engaged him in a long kiss to steady his ragged breaths. When his lungs, if not his heart, had calmed, she reached again.

Immediately she felt the difference. His body radiated heat, and she felt his lips cool. A tear fell from Zuko's scarred eye, and he returned the kiss more passionately, a juice-impaired hand clutching at her dress. She guided it down and sighed into the kiss as his hot fingers stroked. She drew up on him, and then together they pressed. She felt the air around her sizzling.

Fiery bliss emanated from their bodies as they sunk deeper and deeper into each other. Katara could feel the sweat beading on her brow, but her concentration remained on Zuko. The same could not be said for him, however. His lips continued to work at hers, but his hands soon grew complacent and settled on her hips. Katara made a note to teach him to hold his attention better.

When the end came, a heat wave rolled off of the Fire Lord. She reached for a rag with which to wipe down his sticky body (Why did she expect it to come away black?) and afterwards waterbent soothing tides over both their bodies. Her loins still yearned for him, but as she felt his fever cool, she knew this was as satisfying as having him inside her.

As he lay panting, Katara quickly bent some water to wipe them down before joining him. She wrapped her arms around him; still warm, but now just the right temperature for the autumn night. As their eyes drooped shut, the dark beast within her honed its claws and waited, sated for now.


	4. Chapter 4

Zuko paced the same path from the desk to the door for the hundredth time. _Tonight, it'll be tonight_, he thought for the thousandth time. Katara had been so patient, so good to him. In truth, better than anyone had ever been to him. So why wasn't he ready for her?

"What is wrong with me?" Zuko muttered, slamming his fists on the wooden desk, leaving scorch marks. Luckily its last owner had been prone to temper issues as well. _He gave me more than this scar…_ Zuko had always known there was a darkness within him, festering because of how Ozai had treated him. But what if it was more basic than that? What if this was simply how he was?

Zuko shook his head to clear it. There was no sense in fretting over the old man. He was gone now, and good riddance. All Zuko needed to be concerned with was Katara. His sweet Katara, feisty Katara, willing to go all the way Katara. Damaged Katara, mirror image of himself Katara. What on earth was he waiting for?

He thought again about the excitement from a week ago. It had felt so right… No wonder people did not remain virgins long. The alternative was so much better. And if her sweet lips felt nearly as good as they had tasted… Zuko's fists tightened as he felt the heat rising in him, and _in_ him. Every night since that one he had sought Katara's comfort, and she had given it. Most often she took more than she gave, but Zuko liked that side of her. For so many years she had seen that powerful girl hiding behind a mask of serenity. He loved seeing her bestial side, the hunger that consumed her. He had spent his life surrounded either by people too meek to oppose him or those who saw him as filth. Katara's acceptance of him was a breath of fresh air in his stagnant life.

So why hadn't he let her accept all of him?

Zuko shook his head. Again. He promised himself tonight he would let her. Again. As he turned to leave the Fire Lord's command chamber for the day and make the short walk to his room, he tried to settle his stomach. Again.

When he reached the heavy bronze doors, he hesitated. He took several deep breaths, willing his heart to calm, running through the motions of yesterday's martial arts lesson in his mind. He saw himself flowing through the poses, like liquid fire, arms and legs jutting out to spouts of flame, his heart rate elevated, but controlled. He tried to remember what that had felt like, tried to emulate it, but failed. With a sigh, he pushed open the doors.

She was waiting for him, as he knew she would. And just like every night since the first, her beauty left him speechless. The second night it had been obvious Katara thought Zuko was almost ready; she had waited in little more than a slip of cloth, with candles lit like the night before, legs spread invitingly. When Zuko had dipped his head between her legs, he felt she might be disappointed, even though her moans said otherwise.

As the nights passed Katara waited less and less provocatively. Last night she had still been fully clothed, reading an old scroll by candelabra. She had slipped out of the robes readily enough, but her casual acceptance of his being unready only made him angry. He had been so close last night… But in the end they had nestled into the sheets, hands and lips drawing flame from each other. As they lay abed afterwards, Zuko had considered waking her and finally having done with it, but his courage quickly failed him and he slipped into uneasy sleep, the rising and falling of Katara's breasts against his back lulling him into slumber.

He was taken aback, then, by a fully naked Katara waiting just inside the door. Zuko quickly glanced behind him, making sure no one was in the hall, when Katara roughly grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside, quickly slamming the doors. Her eyes glistened as she turned back to him, hunger clear in them, but also patient loving care.

"When you are ready, I will help you, Zuzu. Until then, I'm going to be ready." She stepped back, a slight flush in her cheeks. "So… If you don't like this, I'm sorry, but I need things too." She looked down, then back up, shyly. And he knew.

Zuko just shook his head. He reached out and took her hands in his, pulled one to his scar, holding it to his face. "Everything I am is yours, Katara. I burn for you." He took a deep breath, and realized his hands were shaking. "And I'm ready."

The apprehension in Katara's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a single tear (of joy, Zuko hoped), and her hands tightened on his, steadying the shaking. She threw her arms around him, a choked sob escaping her throat. When she pulled away, she nodded, wiping a tear from her face. "Then so am I."

Zuko tried to control his breathing as Katara slowly, slowly removed his clothes. First she untied his belt, opening his tunic and kissing his warm chest, leaving her lips tingling. When the shirt fell from his shoulders she folded it and carefully laid it by the foot of the bed. When she stood Zuko saw her hands shaking. He gripped them in his own, his eyes searching hers, questioning without words.

Katara blinked away a tear and gave a sad smile. "I just want so badly for this to be perfect for you." Of course then Zuko's eyes misted. _Stupid, stupid…_

"It already is," he managed to choke. Katara smiled then, more genuinely, and unlaced his stockings with steadier hands. Zuko's breathing grew shallow until Katara gently took him in hand, stroking with the lightest touch of her fingertips, soothing his heart, and drawing out the beast within.

She slowly lowered herself onto the spacious bed, pulling him gently down with her until he knelt between her legs and she reclined, steadying herself for what was to come with deep breaths. Suddenly Zuko's courage left him. He knelt there, staring at his hands, face growing red, before Katara pushed herself up onto her elbows. Then her hand was on the scarred side of his face, gently, lovingly luring him on top.

When he looked into her eyes she took a hand in hers and pressed it to her hip, eyes closing for a moment at the sudden heat. Zuko followed suit with his other hand, and Katara's hand dropped from his face. His thumbs rubbed her bare skin, rosy spots growing from the heat. Katara's other hand joined her first, and then her hair loopies had Zuko's full attention. The small blue beads that held them in place, the haphazard way they hung, one off her face, the other plastered with sweat to her cheek. Zuko gently shook his head and refocused on her hands, that tug and pull, on the rise and fall of her chest, her half closed eyes, the fire in them slowly growing, more and more matching his own.

Eventually – a minute, an hour, a day later – Zuko was ready in the flesh. Katara draped an arm around Zuko's neck and pulled him down with her, pressing his lips to her throat. He kissed her, trying to focus on her supple skin as Katara positioned his hips. And now he could feel the tension within her. This patience, the loving caution, this was for him. Katara's hunger was fully apparent now, as her hips wiggled slowly, desperately, trying to get that extra inch lower.

Zuko took a deep breath and kissed her lightly on the chin. His breath was sucked in suddenly as he felt her whole body stiffen, then settle just a little lower. He kissed her on the lips and she shuddered, time halting like the silence between heart beats.

Zuko saw the strain on Katara's face as she waited, hidden behind a thin smile and fiery eyes. He breathed slowly and inched his body up, savoring each motion and silent noise they made. Finally, the motionless crawl and the frozen moment ended, and their eyes met. They lay there, not daring to breathe, until Katara broke the peace, moaning and squeezing her thighs. Sensation erupted for both of them, and her lips sealed themselves to his, sucking and biting, tongue flirting with his. His back spasmed, and when he did Katara suddenly broke off the kiss, instead moaning. Zuko never heard so sweet a sound.

It didn't last as long as Zuko had hoped it would, but Katara didn't seem disappointed. After a minute or two of growing intensity he felt himself slipping, losing control. He began to pull back, scared of the wild, pure lust coursing through him, but Katara placed her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look into her eyes, and as gentle calm settled over the raging storm in his mind, it was over. Katara gazed deep into him as he finished, her hunger apparent but overshadowed by a caring that bordered on love.

When he was done he shuddered and collapsed into her arms. His entire body was a fuzzy confused sparking of exhaustion and pleasure. Her chest heaved as she steadied her breathing, a hand absently stroking his thick hair while the other rubbed his back. He thought he heard her whisper something, but by that time he was already irrevocably on his way to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Katara laughed and ran further up the hill, glancing back to see Zuko lugging up the basket. Beneath them the capitol shone in the early morning sun. Zuko had insisted they set off well before dawn, and though she had managed to delay him a good hour, they were still in time to see the roofs glisten with dew and sunbeams.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh light.

"Yes, it is." She glanced down to see him staring at her, and she blushed. The morning breeze turned her crimson dress into a swirl of fire around her form, her hair tussled and dancing about her face. As Zuko came the last few feet up the hill his head eclipsed the new sun, leaving a yellow halo around his messy hair (which had been much neater before Katara decided to distract him), his eyes glinting in his shadowed face. In the darkness, Katara reflected, no skin is scarred.

Zuko dropped the picnic basket, not ungently, and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss hungrily. He did not respond, other than to kiss deeper. Eventually she pulled back, a puzzle in her eyes, but Zuko's eyes held a different kind of fire. His smile wasn't sly or cruel, as it often was, but sweet. Gentle. Even the scarred skin around his left eye seemed softer, his burned eye not as angry as it had always looked.

Zuko laughed, and pulled her close again, rougher this time, more like his usual self. His lips found her soft neck and picked a circle of flesh, sucking and kissing by turns as she moaned. When she felt the skin tingling he withdrew again, however. Her irritation grew.

"Are we going to set up breakfast, then?" she asked, her voice too sharp.

"I have something to show you first."

"There's only one thing I want to see right now, Zuzu," she said, glancing down not so subtly.

He laughed again. Why was his laugh making her so angry? She beat at his chest futilely, and he caught her wrists fast between his hands. "I think you'll like this, too, Katara." His calm gave her pause, and she waited patiently as he knelt before the basket, finally wondering why they had come this far way for an ordinary breakfast. As Zuko straightened her eyes glittered with puzzle again, but this time more curious than lusty.

Zuko held out a parcel, fitting into his two palms, undefined in shape. He held it out and smiled. She took it carefully, slowly undoing the intricate knot, then peeking into the paper wrapping. She saw a ribbon and pulled it out.

The ribbon was beautiful, a blue silk with scarlet stitching that traced suggestive curves along its length, each strand blossoming into a half dozen plumes like fireworks, making the blue sea of fabric sparkle. No – the sparkle came from tiny rubies embedded at each bursting point, dozens all along the ribbon, twinkling in the scarlet morning. So entrancing were the gemstones that Katara did not even notice the polished clay trinket until it swung in the breeze, reflecting the sun's rays directly into her eyes. She blinked back a tear, her body recognizing before her conscious mind could, and as her vision returned to her the symbol became apparent: A burning wave, mix of Fire and Water, beautifully wrought and shimmering in combinations of deep navy and bright crimson. Her eyes welled up as she recognized the marriage necklace, so alike to her grandmother's, yet so much more beautiful, and not for the silk and gems. Beautiful because, of all the stupid things to first think when she was proposed to, the twinkling necklace reminded her of Zuko's eyes.

Katara choked back a sob as Zuko placed his hands around hers, the necklace held inside, and bent his head down to touch her forehead. "Katara?" he asked, sounding so much more composed than she felt. "Will you be my queen?" The tears were flowing freely now, but Katara could only smile and gasp, for all the world looking like a pained fish. Zuko must have anticipated her paralysis, though, for he stepped to her side and swept an arm across the crimson sea of buildings to the distance. "A nation can be the heaviest burden to bear, its every beauty hanging on the mind of its ruler. But ever since we've been together, every building under my care is not half so beautiful as you. Katara, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, reigning with you by my side. When I'm with you, there is nothing I cannot accomplish. You are already the queen of my heart; say yes now and I'll make you the queen of my subjects' hearts as well."

It was too much. Katara could only cry, smiling and crumpling against Zuko's shoulder. He smiled down and her and held her hands, taking the necklace lightly from her clenched fingers. He helped her straighten up and offered the necklace to her throat, a question in his eye. A question he knew the answer to. Katara merely nodded, barely seeing him for her veil of tears, and then she felt the ribbon slipping softly around her throat. When it was secured it felt like a gentle kiss, a light hug, the trinket the only part of it hinting at its weight. She reached up and felt the clay, felt the traced lines beneath her fingers, and then threw herself at her fiancé.

Whereas five minutes ago they would have hit the ground already naked, Katara was busy planting wet happy kisses all over Zuko's face, and he was trying to keep up. His arms felt so good around her, and her whole body felt numb, not daring to believe in what had happened. When her eyes dried she felt she might never be able to shed a tear again. She laughed, which turned into a cough, which made Zuko laugh. She looked deep into his eyes and found herself smiling even wider. "Yes, Zuko, I will marry you."

Katara realized she was crying again. She reached to wipe them away, and Zuko asked what was wrong. "This is so perfect," Katara whispered, not wanting her voice to rend through this mystical veil of dreams. "How can anything feel so good again?"

Zuko answered immediately. "Every second I spend with you, you grow more beautiful. Each second adds love and passion to my heart for you. Katara, how could it not?"

Amid tears and smiles the two fell to the blanket, rage forgotten, pasts forgotten, sins and dishonors irrelevant. In this moment Katara and Zuko found peace, and what a perfect picture they painted on its canvas.

Slowly they kissed again, her lovingness and fortitude layering on him like armor. In their passion it melted, molding perfectly to his body, becoming a part of his soul. Words were spoken, though in vain. Everything they needed to say was shared without voices, each sigh and hug louder than shouts, kisses more directed than whispers.

When time drew short, Katara did not begrudge it. They had had their perfection, their love had been immortalized in a sweet moment. Two floodgates let loose, and as one they floated down the stream, turbulence subsiding, until they drifted on a silent pond, bodies twirling around each other, fingers barely touching, but as inseparable as night and day. Like the moon she circled him, and like the sun he followed her, and in peace they awaited the world to come crashing back.


End file.
